Some Things Have to Change
by Valerie the Cheerio lover
Summary: SLASH! Paul is a bitter peace loving, tree-hugging social outcast who despises the world and never fails to find the bad things in everything. When Jacob Black, the most popular jock in the entire school, tries to make friends with Paul he begins to discover that Jacob isn't as ignorant and self-centered as he thought. Will Jacob be able to show Paul the good things in life?
1. Chapter 1

**[A.N:] I'm so excited! My very first fanfiction! I've had this fic written down in a notebook for a very long time, and after reading the amazing fanfiction "I will claim you" I was inspired to put my idea out in the open and post it. I would like to say that Paul is VERY OOC so I'm going to try and keep his hot-headedness and see if that keeps him true to his personality as it was depicted in twilight. Please tell me if I succeed. Paul's disposition in this story is very dear to me as it reflects myself not to long ago when I was in a very dark place in my life (emotionally and mentally of course xD), so please try not to criticize his character TOO harshly. I'm very self-conscious posting this fiction, and won't be updating unless you lovely people let me know that you like what you read. Oh! And this is a SLASH… just thought I should tell you. x3 Sorry for any and all mistakes I'm just so excited to get this up, and I'll most likely go back and edit any errors. Anyways I'm going to wrap this up. Enjoy! :3**

"Speaking"

_'Thinking'_

**Song: "Peace, love, and understanding" by A Perfect Circle **

**Disclaimer: I obviously do NOT own the Twilight series or any of it's lovely characters. I merely manipulate them to satisfy my own sick fantasies. So in other words... I no own, you no sue. Capeesh? :3**

My foot subconsciously taps to the beat as I stare out at a group of teenagers making a bonfire, conversing, and other such activities on First beach. I think about how common the sight is throughout the world. Teenagers behaving as teenagers do; caught up in melodramas of clique rivalries, dating, school, and gossip- all of those things so prominent in their everyday thoughts and worries that they fail to see anything going on in the world around them. While complaining about breakups the natural world around them is wilting… dying. While bragging about grades on tests, children are starving and dying, caught in the middle of wars. _'Do these people have time to even think? Or are they too busy thinking up new rumors to spread? Damn bastards… they don't bother even pretending to care.'_

A sigh breaks from my lungs, and I spot the most ignorant and cocky bastard of all. And Mr. Stereotypical-high-school-jock is making his way right towards me, a smile as fake as his ex-girlfriend's tits plastered on his face.

Mr. tall-dark-and-handsome has been trying to make friends with me recently. I've tried to make it as clear as possible to him that I don't want to be apart of his stupid clique but I can't seem to get it through his pretty, empty skull, _'Looks like I'm going to need to try a more direct approach.'_ I heave a deep sigh and reluctantly pull out my ear buds then set my mp3 player on the passenger seat in preparation for- what I hope would finally escalate to- a full out brawl as he continues on his merry way towards me. _'Hopefully I won't lose TOO miserably.'_

"Hey, Paul! You wanna come chill? We've got hot-dogs on the pit right now and Stacy really likes yo-"

I stand up and shut the car door. _'This kid just doesn't know when to quit.'_ I stalk a few feet towards him "No. I don't want to be part of your stupid fucking clique, now leave me the fuck alone you empty headed jock!" My pulse is pounding in my ears, I can feel the adrenalin being released as I prepare for the conflict that is sure to get him off my back once and for all.

His brows turn up and he frowns, looking hurt and shocked. This qualms my excitement and derails me from starting the brawl I so desperately wished for. For a moment I almost feel bad for him, but his sad puppy eyes won't break me today.

"I thought ever since that chemistry lab…" His voice is pained and his face starts to fill with blood- though he shows no sign of anger… just of sadness.

I am confused by his reaction and instinctually react by opening my mouth for more words that could potentially set him off. "Don't act so surprised, asshole. Just because we were lab partners once in Chem. doesn't mean you can try and act all buddy-buddy with me. Let's get something straight… I hate the ground you walk on and the air you breathe. I hate your stupid, ignorant jock ways and your self-centeredness. Now, stay away from me, you pompous ass!" I don't regret it, but something deep inside me- a voice and presence separate from my own, which I've always been able to feel and hear- tells me I will very soon.

Seeking solace, I leave before he can say anything that can possibly make me apologize, and I don't look back.

My feet are ungraceful as I trudge past rowdy teenaged beach-goers, stumbling through the sand more times than I'll ever care to admit. There is an ache in my brain at my contradicting beliefs, actions, and thoughts. All the while I feel, rather than hear, my inner voice's chastisement.

_'Shit... I've done it this time. I've just started a social war… a war between the youth of today currently attending LaPush High School. Fuck! He looked pretty sad about it too... Dumbass! I better go look for-'_

"Hey, Paul!" The whiney quality to the female voice, which interrupted my thoughts, is one that is all too familiar. I don't even bother turning around. I am not in the mood for this bitch's bull shit, so I just ignore her and keep on walking towards the cliffs, which are so often littered with members of Sam's cult, in hopes of finding it purged of any other human's presence.

The cliffs come into view and I notice that today I am blessed with their absence. I make my way to the vacant spot and look out at the beach, trying to find the Neanderthal that I insulted. Not finding him I resolved to apologize the next day I feel like going to school. Before I can leave the cliffs I catch sight of the water peeking out at me over the crusted rock. I stand there for a minute- on the edge- enjoying the ocean breeze brushing my long dark locks away from my face with its untainted freshness which is carried on wind from hundreds of miles away.

I sit slowly, then lean back on my hands while dangling my legs over the edge. I look out at the distant water. My mp3 player left back in my car- I just sit and listen to the waves licking at the shore, to the sea gulls and the occasional pelican squawking. I lose track of time sitting on the cliffs, watching the waves.

I stand, my joints popping and creaking in protest due to- what had to be- hours of sitting. I stretch and breathe a deep sigh before stuffing my hands in my pockets and trudging back to my car listlessly. My cheeks still burned red from the confrontation and the adrenalin it produced. I find myself beginning to regret some of the things I said to the poor jock.

Howling brought me from digging deeper into the feeling. Alarmed by the animal noises coming from not too far away and remembering reading about reported sightings of large wolves in the area, I picked up my pace, almost running down the side of the twisted cliff road.

A flash of black, grey, and brown in my peripheral vision accompanied by the sound of animal snarls and something large crashing through brush was all it took for me to book it down the road. My thoughts reduced down to nothing except _'faster, faster, it's gaining on you, faster!'_ By this time I'm in total survival mode- not stopping for anything- not even the faint whimper in the back of my mind. I don't slow my pace even when I see my car in sight. If anything the sight of my beloved 1971 impala inspires me to draw enough energy to push my legs even faster. And when I reach said car I quickly open the windowless door and almost literally jump in and peel out of the parking lot, driving more than twice the speed limit. All the while hearing a quiet lonesome howl over the rush of wind whipping past me.

**[A.N:] Don't forget to click that little button down bellow that says "REVIEW"... if you don't you may just find your cheerios a little bit... shall we say... feistier... than you last remembered. x3 C'mon... you know you want to tell me how much you either love or hate it. :3**

**3 Please? :3**


	2. Chapter 2

**[A.N:] I would like to thank iJeedai for being my first reviewer! :3 You don't have any idea what girlish squeals I admitted when I saw I had a review. Now to anyone who is not reviewing… please… for my sake… review! XD**

"Talking"

_'Thinking'_

**Song: "What's going on?" by A Perfect Circle  
**

**Disclaimer: PUH-LEEEEEEASE, honeybooboo… If I owned twilight there would be ABSOLUTELY NO- ZIP-NADA-ZILCH BREEDERS IN IT. Leah would be a lesbian stud who is capable of beating the shiznip out of each and every male in the WORLD, and serenading every attractive woman she comes by. Seth would be a famous rapper with the stage name of 'PowerTwink'. Jacob and Sam would abuse their alpha voice in dirty ways. And every scene would eventually end up in numerous slash/femmeslash orgies. :3 Now you tell me… did any of that happen? No? Well then you have no reason to alert your lawyers. ;3**

I wake from a dreary sleep and pull back the covers. Feeling a large mass of warmth on the left half of my body I sit up and see my five-month-old German Shepard mutt asleep by my thighs which are still sore from yesterday evening. Careful not to wake her up, I slowly slip out of bed and walk up the creaky stairs of my house onto the main floor and into the kitchen.

I am alerted to my father's presence by the stench of alcohol that permeates in the air. Very rarely do I see him up before noon, but on the rare occasions when I do it's usually because he recently arrived home from the bar.

I can tell that today is no exception when he stumbles into view.

"Yer goin't school t'day, boy. 'M fuckin' tired of this skippin' bullshit." His words are slurred and his usually intimidating demeanor is almost pitiful as he leans against the counter to keep from falling over.

I sigh a sad, bittersweet sigh and hold his arm to help steady him. "Alright, pops. I'm going to school now, but first lets get you into bed." I tell him calmly, slowly leading him out of the kitchen.

He yanks his arm out of my grip, nearly falling over in the process and gives me a disgusted look, the affect of it dulled by his drunkenness. "I don' need yer fuckin' help, ya' fuckin' faggot."

I don't take his words seriously… I can't… for my own sake I can't. I just roll my eyes and pretend to be unfazed by his comment. "Yeah, yeah. C'mon pops, before you pass out on me, old man." I say as I lead him to his room with a stronger, more demanding grip.

Reluctantly he follows, but not without voicing his displeasure with me. "Yer weak, just like yer ma'." That one never fails to hit a nerve in me whether he is intoxicated or not, and I have to grit my teeth in order to keep myself from saying something. My dad pauses in his compliant steps. His lower lip quivers and moisture is brimming in his eyes. I know what's coming.

My big, strong, masculine father sobs and wails, trying to hide his tears and stifle his cries in his hands. It kills me inside to see him like this, because when he's in this sort of nostalgic pain I don't see the crying drunkard- I don't see the now violent crying man... no... I see my dad crying. The same man who played ball with me, the same man who built living room forts with me, who got in fights with my bullys' fathers, who bandaged all my scraped knees, who held my hand and made a complete fool of himself to distract me while I got my first stitches. I see the man he used to be... before my mother died. That same man is crying against my shoulder now.

I hold him close and rub his back while he remembers my deceased mother. A force to be reckoned with, she was. A strong woman who kept my dad's bad side at bay and brought forth his best.

My dad gives a particularly violent sob, grasping desperately at my shirt.

_'She left far too soon.'_

"Shh… s'alright, dad… s'alright." I keep my voice even and soothing, even though I am holding back tears of my own. As I continue to hold him and rub comforting circles into his back I can't help but feel more like the adult than the child.

"'M s'sorry, Paul… don' know what th'fuck I'd do withoutchya." He's calmed down, laying his head on my shoulder defeatedly.

I pat his back. "It's okay, dad… I won't go anywhere." I feel the need to reassure him that even though my mother's presence was no longer felt in this house, I will not leave… no matter how difficult he sometimes makes it to stay. I have to savor these moments, because when he's sober again everything will go back to the way things were and he'll deny ever showing me any of the sadness that I know he feels.

He sighs, an exhausted sound, and raises his head from my shoulder to give me a weak, intoxicated smile and allows me to walk him to his room and into bed. Due to my need to get out of the house I walk a glass of water, two tablets of ibuprofen, and a bottle of tums into his room and set them on the nightstand for when he awakes before continuing my short morning routine and heading out the door.

My car couldn't handle the abuse I dished out the night before and kept overheating. Of course- me not being a car freak- I can't just up and fix it and my current income status of 'dirt broke' leaves me with no other option but walking... much to my distaste.

I am still shook up after last night's events; consisting of narrowly escaping being some wild animal's- or ANIMALS'- lunch. In result one could understand my paranoid behavior as I briskly walk to school- not DARING to listen to music and eliminate one of my senses from the task of detecting any and all danger. An example of said danger being, but not limited to hungry wolves, angry from their failed hunt, seeking revenge on the prey which narrowly escaped them.

Making it to school alive, I don't let myself relax, as I still have to get through my classes, swallow my pride to apologize to that bastard Jacob, and STILL manage to muster up enough courage to walk back home. _'Not like I can ask a friend for a lift seeing as how I don't have any.'_ My thoughts turn bitter.

The only time I've ever had a friend in this school was last year. Sam Uley- a senior last year- was cool, calm, and collected… a down to earth guy with a passive and peace-loving nature. Up to date on current worldwide events, he had a compassionate heart and a love for analyzing political and social structure. He had an almost fatherly nature about him, which I was instantly drawn to, given my relationship with my own father. I smile sadly to myself as I remember all the strange looks we'd receive while debating- sometimes very heatedly- and conversing about politics, social issues, and the human psych. He was my only friend until one day he skipped school, claiming to be sick and returned two weeks later a completely different person; violent, quick-tempered, solely obsessed with his girlfriend, and avoiding me at all costs necessary. Those contact free weeks marked the end of our friendship and the beginning of Sam's cult.

I flop down in my desk and my face falls into my hands, my eyes scrunching up in pain.

At all these nostalgic thoughts and remembrances I can feel it setting in again… rising up from my stomach; the dark cloud... this feeling of loneliness, uselessness, pessimism, and complete self-hatred. _'Once…'_ I think _'Just once… why can't something amazing happen to me? Something extraordinary…'_ I wonder sadly. _'Why even bother trying to make a change in this world when my words will only fall on deaf ears? Why even fucking try? No one cares. No one will ever care. No one cares about the hungry and homeless children anymore! No one cares about our dying planet anymore! No one cares about fighting for others' rights anymore! All these politics… all these business and congress men! It's all just a charade! Nobody gives a FUCK!'_ I have to hold back a sob and bite my lip to keep tears from spilling. _'Nobody gives a fuck about anyone but themselves! They won't EVER care about me or anyone else! People are narcissistic, conceited bastards by nature!'_ It's completely taken over. It's got a chokehold on all my passions and weaknesses and it's constricting before turning them into dust right before my eyes. _'Why try to deny it anymore!? Just give the fuck up already! Just fucking DIE already! It won't matter! I can't change anything! JUST. DIE!'_

It's tightening its grip until my chest feels tight and breaths come in painful gasps of air. People are starting to file into the classroom now and I have to glue myself back together quickly, but it's putting out the fight that burns inside me with such little provocation. _'It takes so little to turn me into a weeping little fag… I'm weak. So. Fucking. WEAK!' _I become angry with myself for being so emotional and for not hiding my fear and weakness- especially out in public like this. If my father taught me anything after my mother's death it would be that to show emotion is to show weakness. I try not to think about this so as not to feed the dying storm inside my mind and to avoid another lightning attack against myself.

And slowly, but surely I can feel this cloud of darkness hanging over me begin to weaken. _'I wonder what would happen if I was gone… would anyone care?'_ I think apathetically. This thought triggers the depression again and I can only bring my face down into my elbows and let my contradicting thoughts continue to battle. _'I'm always trying to become a martyr, always looking for pity, and comfort. I need to stop fucking doing this to myself, I'm not going to find any comfort! Man up!'_ I am confused as to why I am trying to bring the sadness back. But as my conscience repeats those words over and over again I begin to grow numb to them. The dark cloud of sadness and self-hate admits defeat and recedes back into my stomach. With it, it brings my ability to feel emotion- holding said ability as a prisoner of war- and leaving behind an empty, apathetic, and numb fog in my mind.

I make it through the rest of the hour, bitterly thinking that Mr. Anderson might as well have been lecturing a brick wall. Having walked through the hall to my next class- one of two classes I share with Jacob- I set my things down and sit in my chair. The bell rings and as I turn around and try to gather enough courage to swallow my pride to make way for the dreaded word 'Sorry', I dimly notice that Jacob isn't in his seat behind me. _'I wonder what the fuck's wrong with him…'_ I think. _'Oh well, I guess I'll apologize tomorrow.'_

The rest of the day is uneventful and dull and before I know it the bell is ringing and I'm on my way home. I don't fear anything creeping up on me, as the fog of apathy and numbness still lingers in my mind, so I freely dig out my mp3 player and block out the rest of the world as I walk back home.

The singer's voice soothes my mind and begins to bring my emotions back up from the depths of my stomach, free from my dark cloud's clutches. The downbeat tempo inspires me to walk a bit slower, despite there being a bit of a cool breeze blowing.

I was lucky this morning that it wasn't raining. But alas, I am reminded of my misfortune when a loud crack of thunder breaks through the oblivity that my music brings me- followed by multiple droplets of rain falling on my forehead and the bridge of my nose. "Shit!" I mutter as I stuff my mp3 player back into my pocket so as not to ruin it. I begin running with what feels like a two-ton bag of books on my back, so I am not surprised when I slip and fall forward, scraping myself pretty badly against the neglected concrete as I skid to a stop on my hands and knees. The pain it brought eliciting words that would make a sailor blush.

"Mm… fuck." I quietly mumble in pain as I cradle my knee to my chest. Looking down, my pants are utterly demolished and I spy a small black area – about the circumference of a wood pencil – on my skin only to realize that a pebble was embedded in my skin. _'Lovely… just lovely… I can't WAIT to dig this thing out.'_

"NO!" My head snaps in the direction the voice came from, as I quickly stand up. The sound of grunting and movement was coming from one of the wooded areas I pass by every day on my way to school.

Rustling in near by trees makes me back up and prepare to run, until the person I least expect to see broke through the trees and brush.

**Duh-duh-duuuuuuun! Sorry about the cliffhanger.**

**Sooo… who do you think it is? :3 Leave a review and tell me your prediction!**

**Translations (if you need them):**

**"Yer goin't school t'day, boy. 'M fuckin' tired of this skippin' bullshit.": You're going to school today, boy. I'm fucking tired of this skipping bullshit.**

**"I don' need yer fuckin' help, ya fuckin' faggot.": I don't need your help, you fucking faggot.**

**"Yer weak, just like yer ma'.": You're weak, just like your mom.**

**"...S'alright...": ...It's alright...**

**"'M s'sorry, Paul... don' know what th'fuck I'd do withoutchya.": I'm so sorry, Paul... I don't know what the fuck I'd do without you.**

**And yes, Paul has an abusive relationship with his father, but I didn't want to take the stereotypical "damsel in distress" route – which I see so many lovely fanfictions fall into. Of course Paul is going to be unhappy about his relationship with his dad but I want Paul to hold his own in his issues, and not play the role of the poor helpless, little boy who needs to be saved by a big strong man.**

**I have used my own thoughts and feelings from my own experiences in the scene in which Paul isn't feeling too good about himself. I hope that made it more realistic.**

**Also feel free to point out any punctuation errors (I know I have many) as this fic is unbeta…ed! O.o Is that even a word? Oh well. xD**

**C'mon… show me some love, yeah?**


	3. Chapter 3

**[A.N:] Hey there devoted readers! :D I am so sorry for the delay. Finals were making me their bitch for a week. I had a sudden case of LPD (Lazy Person's Disorder) the next week and well... writers block gave me a mental breakdown. Anyways as I was writing this I was pondering the idea of making Sam's "girlfriend" a boy. xo I've opened up a poll so that you lovely people can vote! :D It can be found on my profile. It has also come to my attention that doesn't allow song lyrics, so in light of this terrible news I will be editing the lyrics out. Dx But not to worry, because before each chapter I am going to be providing you the song name instead so that you can listen to the song while reading. :3**

**Song: "If I had a heart" by Fever Ray**

**Kudos to Stargazer1364, SoundShield11, iJeedai, Mzzvirgo, and a few guests for reviewing! You guys don't realize how much it means to me. :'3 You ARE my inspiration.**

"Talking"

_'Thinking'_

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed  
**

Sam. The bastard who had abandoned and ignored me for a girl he had just met that fateful week, now stands before me, half naked, panting heavily, and attempting to speak through labored breath.

Not on speaking terms anymore, yet having no immediate reason to be an asshole to him, I'm unsure as to how to behave around this stranger who was once my closest and only friend. Awkwardly, I nod to him then turn to hobble away.

"Wait! Paul..." I turn to look back at him as he pants for another breath. "I need to talk to you..." he says, continuing to struggle to breathe.

This ticks me off. _'So now he wants to talk to me? What happened to ignoring me?'_ I give him the most severe bitch face I can achieve with the throbbing distraction of a badly skinned knee. "Well I don't want to talk to you." I tell him discouragingly, then attempt to swagger away confidently but failing miserably due to the broken skin on my knee.

_'I always have been a bit of a baby when it comes to skinned joints.'_ I bitterly admit to myself.

"Come on! This is hardly fair!" He seems to have regained his breath enough to whine at me. "You're not even going to allow me to even attempt to apologize?" It's more of a statement than a question, but I still find the need to answer as he quickly catches up to my pathetic speed.

"Nope." I say with a false lightness, popping the 'p'. He's ahead of me now, walking backwards to try to guilt me with his puppy dog eyes. I've always had a weakness for cute things.

I turn and begin walking in the other direction. _'I will not be broken. He doesn't deserve to be forgiven.'_ I think angrily.

Sam grunts in frustration, and I can hear him begin to follow me again. "Please, Paul? Don't you want to make peace?" He pleads sadly.

I completely freeze. _'For peace, huh?'_ My mind is flooded with memories of how things once were between us, the debates, the laughter, the comfort, even the occasional arguments. I can't help it as my eyes well up with tears and my throat thickens. A tear falls and I curse quietly before reaching up and violently wiping it away with a shuddered intake of breath. I hate this. Feeling so weak and vulnerable. My lip quivers and another tear betrays me, falling wetly down my cheek only to be angrily wiped away with my sleeve.

There's no doubt in my mind that he knows I'm crying. _'He's always been so observant.'_ I think cynically. Once upon a time I wouldn't have cared if he saw me crying, but now I am utterly humiliated. I sob... just at the sheer amount of shame I feel.

I can hear his footsteps behind me and though I know walking away now will be fruitless, that doesn't stop me from trying. He doesn't even have to rush to catch up with me before he's hugging me, his arms around my torso and his head on my shoulder; hugging me just as he used to.

The familiar press of my old friend calms me and before too long the tears stop all together. We are silent and unmoving as I allow my mind to purge itself of all emotions.

"We need to talk..." He says tentatively.

I wait, reluctant to agree, before giving in and allowing him to lead me back the way he came. Silence is dominant, as neither of us seem to know what things are appropriate to say to break the tension, so settling for not saying anything at all.

A small, cozy looking house comes into view. _'This must be his and his girlfriend's house...'_ I think detachedly as I remember the day I went to confront him at his parents' house only to find that he'd moved and his parents didn't want me to know where.

Sam steps inside and I follow suit. Not knowing if I should take my shoes off, I wait awkwardly until I see Sam do so before doing the same. He leads me into the kitchen silently, then sits in a chair at the large table pushed off to the side of the room, motioning for me to sit in the chair across from him.

I move nervously in this new environment, thoughts of the girl who took Sam away from me invade my mind. _'She's been here... possibly sat in this very chair.'_ I think as I gingerly take my seat, keeping my eyes on anything but Sam's face.

"Paul..." He says sharply, so as to get my attention.

It works and I focus my eyes on his face for the first time since entering this house. His eyes blink back moisture as he regarded me.

A twang of empathy nearly ceases the rest of my resentment towards him.

"I'm sorry that our friendship ended so abruptly... I feel terrible about it." Sincerity is evident in his voice.

I can feel my heart warm. "I know you do..." This much is clear, but a question still gnaws at my insides "Why?" I ask.

He frowns in confusion. "What?... Why, what?" He asks.

"Why did you stop associating yourself with me in the first place?" I ask, my voice becoming harsher with every word as I begin to consider possible answers to the question. "Were you ashamed of me? Didn't want to hang out with the faggot anymore?" The last is more of a statement than a question, and soon I find myself glaring at him.

"Oh don't fucking start this shit with me." His face now twisted in what some might mistake as anger, but I know him well enough to know he's just exasperated.

_'Or at least I USED TO know him.'_

"You KNOW I'm in the same boat, so don't you dare start to think that I was ashamed, because I sure as hell wasn't ashamed of myself." He harshly reminds me.

The fact that he had to state this known fact to me only serves to make me feel like an idiot and a bad person.

To escape the emotions I instinctually distract myself by lashing out again with another question. "Then why now, huh? Why not a year ago? Shit, why not two years ago! Why do you suddenly want to try to make amends between us NOW?" I yell back, standing up out of my chair and leaning over the table to get in his face.

He stands up as well, glaring at me. "Sit the fuck down, Paul." He growls between clenched teeth, sounding more animal than human.

"You sit down first." I growl back, hating feeling threatened and intimidated.

He sighs and I can almost see his pride slipping down his throat, as he sits down on the chair slowly.

Slowly, I follow his lead, keeping my eyes on him at all times. We are silent for a while, neither of us looking at the other. I wait for him to begin to speak, but quickly lose my patience. "Why now?" I ask again, this time there is no venom in my voice.

"I've been thinking about it a lot lately... I figured better late than never." He said thoughtfully.

I nod, still looking down at my hands on the table then finally look up at him, to find his eyes still cast down.

Glancing outside it's getting dark. "Sam..." I get his attention and he looks up at me. "I should go now." I say quietly, almost sounding detached.

He nods and sees me out of his house. "Be careful... there have been wolf sightings be the cliffs." He says with a bit of humor on his face, as he stands on his front step, watching me walk off.

I huff a quick breath out of my nose in a laugh. _'Of course HE would find it funny. No wolf would dare fuck with a six foot five man.'_

"Don't worry, I'm sure if they decide to eat me they'll do it fast... you know... seeing as how I'm so delicious." I throw over my shoulder as I continue to walk away.

He laughs at my joke then turns back towards his house and disappears inside.

**BRIEF SAM P.O.V.**

I have to hold back much of my laughter at Paul's comment. _'Oh if only he knew that the wolf I'm worried about would do far worse things than simply "eat" him.' _I chuckle at my own thoughts just as I close the front door to the home I share with my imprint.

**BACK TO PAUL'S P.O.V.**

As I trek back home I approach the same cliffs I had sat at just days before, except this time they aren't vacant. Boisterous laughter and loud talking informs me of this.

It is dark now and as I grow closer and closer the laughter dies down and the loud voices turn to hushed whispers. Darkness only allows me to distinguish the faces when I'm five feet away and by then it's too late to turn back as I then recognize the face of one Jacob Black.

**Oh mai gahhhhsh! How will Paul react to seeing Jacob? Better yet... how will Jacob react to seeing Paul? All this and more when we return! Until then here are a few words from our sponsors...**

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**Wow... what a compelling advertisement. I think I'll go review a fanfiction story! :D**

**If you couldn't tell... I want you to review! XD It'll be greatly appreciated!**

**Oh! And don't forget to vote for who you think Sam's imprint should be via the poll on my profile!**

**Over and out! 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**[A.N:] Hello again readers! Long time no write, eh? :D Sorry about that... uh... laziness and tests and... um... plague? Dx I know some of you are getting fed up with my excuses but the first two were legit. Anyways I've gotten EXACTLY one vote on my poll on who Sam's imprint should be... this isn't working so well. D: So if I don't have at least five votes by the end of the week I'm going to have to close the poll and just go with my gut. You can find the poll at the very tip top of my profile page. :3 Hm... what else... OH! I have forgotten to mention it in the last few chapters, BUUUUT I don't agree with the cast of Twilight. :\ The guy who plays Paul (Alex Meraz) and the guy who plays Jacob (Taylor Lautner) should be completely switched! ." Alex is flippin GINORMOUS and Taylor is so TINY in comparison. :D Therefore in this story (if you're a visual person) I will ask for you to switch the two around... difficult I know, and if you don't want to no skin off my knee (is that how the saying goes? hm... oh well) :D Adhd minds are amusing aren't they? ALSO! I'm going to be updating again tomorrow for the lack of an update last week! :D And it will be a VERY juicy chapter! Just delectable if you ask me. AND! Recently I've been looking for a beta... to tell you the absolute truth... this is IMPOSSIBLE! Dx Not ONLY do I need to find someone who will correct my TERRIBLE punctuation, but aren't bothered by gay romance, aren't offended by course language, aren't complete a-holes (every single one I've looked at all seem to be the "I don't care what you think, I'll be as mean and blunt as I possibly can" or "If you skip a scheduled update I'm completely dropping you" type.), and are okay with... well other things that I can't bring up because they occur in the next chapter. ." Well... I think that's it... although I have a feeling I'm forgetting something... O.o Oh well. I'm sure I'll cover it lat- HOLY SHIT I JUST REMEMBERED! O.O" Alright so usually I'll get about one review per one hundred views... we've moved up to THREE reviews per one hundred views! X'D I'M SO HAPPY! THANK YOU GUYS! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! C'x**  
**Enjoy!**

**Kudos to kaisaleg, Stargazer1364, wolf lover of michigan, and SoundShield11. (Quick Adhd moment: MICHIGAN!? DUDE! WE'RE LIKE... NEIGHBORS... ALMOST. XD) If you all could see the big smile on my face every single time I read a new review I think you might understand how important they are to me, and how much motivation they give me. :'3**

"Talking"_  
'Thinking'  
**'The voice'**  
_

**Song: "Gangsta" by Kat Dahlia lyrics for this chapter have no significance... I just like the beat**

**Disclaimer: I'm too lazy right now to write a creative way of disclaiming this... just know that I do not own Twilight. :3**

_'Maybe I can sneak past him without him noticing me...'_

I wonder hopefully, putting my hood up in an attempt to hide my face with a cast shadow, and walking faster.  
"Paul!"  
_'Fuck! Just my luck!'_ I slow my feet to a stop and look in the direction of that-who-shall-be-the-death-of-me. He's sporting his large trademark grin as he makes his way over to me. I find myself having to fight not to look at his bare pectorals._ 'It's Jacob! The bastard I hate!'_ I have to remind myself, yet somehow my thoughts don't stir the same self-hating reaction they usually do.  
_**'Don't fight your instincts, Paul...'** _The voice surprises me when it speaks, because it tends to avoid speaking to me directly after bouts of self pitty and anger.  
_'And why the fuck not?'_ I think back defiantly.  
_**'Things will not end well for you if you deny them.'**_ It warns.  
My normal response would be to roll my eyes but at this moment I notice Jacob is standing in front of me, grinning like the idiot he is.  
"W... what do you want?" I curse myself for stammering like an anxious child, as I pull down my hood and slightly turn to face my destination in case I decide to leave.  
Suddenly his confident grin is gone and he reaches up with a massive arm to scratch the back of his neck, my eyes instinctively drawn to the sight of his flexing bicep -half intimidated and half attracted- but then is quickly torn away as he begins to speak. "Uh... well... I just wanted to talk... I guess." He's nervous, almost shy, and the reason for this behavior evades my mind, which in turn puts me on edge.  
I hear snickering from behind him and I can partially see the boys Jacob is with smirking over at us and whispering things in each others' ears which makes others laugh quietly. I frown at this. "If you want to talk then we'll have to go somewhere else... I'm not about to deal with them eavesdropping." I demand, never letting my eyes wander from the strange boys.  
He turns, as if just noticing the ruckus his friends are making, and glares at them which only earns him another bout of laughter from the boys.  
Sighing, he shakes his head at them, then turns back to me. "Sure, sure... um... I'll walk you home?" He offers with a weak smile.  
I'm about to tell him off, but then I stop to contemplate the advantages. _'If those wolves come back to take another go at eating me it wouldn't hurt to have a boy- suitable enough to take Shaq on- by my side to protect me...'_ I trail off, then realizing that Jacob hasn't once been in a fight... or at least not at school. _'Then again... I could always just trip him and hope his giant corpse is enough to fill the wolves' bellies'_  
"Sure, why not." I say lightly, my mood significantly brightened by the visual of Jacob being torn apart by dogs.  
This signifies the resurrection of his confident grin, front and center on his face, and I begin walking towards my house with him hot on my heels.  
It's been five minutes of walking in strained silence and I'm getting impatient. "So... what did you want to talk to me about?" I ask, shoving my hands into my pockets while keeping my eyes fixed forwards. Somewhere in the back of my mind I'm amazed at the absence of hostility I feel towards him at the moment.  
"I was just... kind of wondering... why do you hate me so much?" He asks quietly from my side.  
To say that this is not what I expected would be the understatement of the millenia. I can't help but to peek over at him, and I completely regret it. His face is sullen and his eyes are trained at his feet in front of him.  
Guilt seeps into every pore of my body, makes my mouth go dry, then settles heavily in my gut. I swallow in an attempt to relieve some of the dryness but the friction only results in more dryness.  
My mouth opens and closes repeatedly. I have no response, and I feel terrible because of it._ 'It's been so long... have I forgotten?'_ The only possible answer I can come across is the end of our friendship.  
It was back in middle school when we had stopped being friends. The cause was completely different from the cause between mine and Sam's. It was mutual, we both just drifted apart in response to changing interests and schedules. Mutual, but until then we'd been friends since we were in diapers, and it had still left a gap in my life and in my heart.  
"You... I... I don't really remember." I admit in shame.  
It's silent between us for a moment. Then I hear him pause in his steps and sigh.  
I look up at him and stand still as well.  
His expression is painfully hopeful. "Then can't we just be... not enemies anymore?" He asks in a mess of grammatical errors which strangely doesn't bother my perfectionist mind as much as it usually would.  
I weigh his words in my mind. _'Can we? Is it even possible? He's been the person I've hated most since... well... a long assed time! I'm afraid I won't know how to treat him.'_  
**_'Why don't you just treat him like you did before this whole mess?'_**  
_'Pffft! That will never happen again. Things can never go back to the way they were before.'_ I think dismissively to the voice.  
**_'It did between you and Sam... if only for a moment.'_** It shows me the memory of me and Sam joking on the front step, and that smile that he had given me so many times before in the past.  
_'... Fine... but if this backfires on me somehow I'm getting that fucking MRI and getting your ass removed.'_ I threaten. I am reluctant to agree with it, but it's hard to disagree with its logic.  
_**'As I've told you many times before... I am not a tumor. And anyways you're too broke to afford an MRI.'**_ The voice says in its duo tone voice.  
_'My financial situation is none of your business!... But even if I can't afford one... I'm not above prostituting.' _I half joke.  
I can hear it snort in my mind as its voice fades, bringing our conversation to an end.  
I regard him again; the sad eyes, the hopeful smile... and I cave. My lips twitch upwards in an awkward, weak smile. "Yeah... okay."

**BRIEF JACOB P.O.V.**  
That smile, no matter how small and forced it seems marks the end of my misery. This thought alone is enough to trigger a locked cage in my stomach, opening it and releasing thousands of butterflies, fluttering and making me queasy in the most pleasant way. I have to bend my lips between my teeth to keep from grinning like an idiot. My teeth are cutting my lip so deep I'm almost concerned that I'll bleed out- though I know it's impossible- so I give up and allow my lips to part into a large smile.

**Oh mai yaaaahsh! :D How will our Paulie-boy react?! And what's with this "tumor" that's in his head? o.O All that and more when we return! **

**"Hey authors! It's REVIEEEWWWWS!"**

**Children: "Ooooo! Wooooow!"**

**"Bouncy, squishy, yummy, constructive REVIEEEWWWWS! You can bounce it! You can mold it! You can even EAT IT! :D Reviews are machine washer safe, easy to clean, and trusted by readers everywhere. What better way than to keep your author entertained for HOURS than to give them a review?"**

**"Warning; reviews may cause diareah of the mouth, over excessive squealing, hearing problems due to over excessive squealing, uncontrollable bouncing, spontaneous combustion of writers block. Please call a doctor if your arousal or any of these symptoms lasts for over four hours."**

**"REVIEWWWWWWWWWWS! :D"**

**Children: "YAYYYYY!"**

**OO! READERS! READERS! I WANT ONE! NO WAIT... I WANT TWO... OF EVERY COLOR! PLEEAAAAAAASE?! *holds breath***

**Remember to vote in the poll on my profile!**

**Do I smell a new tradition beginning? x3**


	5. Chapter 5

**[A.N:] WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DRUG USE! IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THIS THEN I WILL GUIDE YOU THROUGH THE STORY SO THAT YOU WILL NOT HAVE TO READ THE SECTION OF THE STORY THAT DESCRIBES THE USE AND EXPERIENCE OF MARIJUANA. JUST LOOK FOR MY AUTHORS NOTES (I will do everything in my power to make them stand out, bold, capitals, underlines, italics, the whole shebang!). THERE WILL BE A SUMMARY OF EVERYTHING IMPORTANT THAT HAPPENS DURING THE PART OF THE STORY THAT YOU MISSED. I AM NEITHER FOR NOR AM I AGAINST MARIJUANA USE, I AM NEUTRAL IN REGARDS TO THIS CONTROVERSIAL TOPIC AND I HOPE THAT THIS DOESN'T AFFECT YOUR VIEW ON MY STORY.**

**Phew! Glad I got that over with. :D Anyways, hey there again guys! I'm going to try and keep this brief (For you Stargazer1364). x3 Aren't you all so glad that I decided to update again today? I'm so happy! We've surpassed 1,000 views, and reached 20 story alerts! :D As usual; remember to vote on my poll 'Who should be Sam's imprint?', it's located at the very top of my profile for easy access. :3 And thanks to those of you who have already voted!**

**Kudos to iJeedai, and Stargazer1364 for reviewing! :D You all might have thought I was over exaggerating the effect that reviews have on me in my Author's Note at the end of last chapter, but that's EXACTLY how I react when I notice I have a new review! :D**

"Talking"

_'Thinking'_

**'The voice'**

**Song: "If I Had a Heart" by Fever Ray**

**It really sets the mood**

**Disclaimer: Dis-fricken-claimed! :3**

Feeling heat spread up my shoulders at the bright smile he gives me, I quickly grunt unenthusiastically and continue walking in the direction of my house. "Hurry your slow ass up... 'gonna get me killed by a wild animal." I mumble under my breath, now uncomfortable with the lack of hostility between us and with the heat which is quickly making its way up my neck.

Footsteps quickly fall behind me letting me know that he's stayed true to his proposal to walk me back. I can't decide if I am thankful for this or not, but I choose not to over-analyze it.

We walk in a comfortable silence for the rest of the fifteen minutes it takes to arrive at my house. In the driveway, I notice my dad's car is gone and for this I am grateful.

I stand at my door. "Thanks." I say awkwardly, my hand on the door knob, and my back half turned to him.

He grins again, over-friendly, and entirely irritating. "No problem." He replies, hands stuffed in his beige pants pockets.

He's turning to take his leave and it's at this point that I remember what I've been needing to tell him. "Wait!" I call, turning fully towards him.

Jacob pauses and looks over his shoulder at me with a curious expression. "Yeah?"

It's now that my throat decides to thicken and my mouth finds it difficult to form words. "I um... I'm sorry for... insulting you that day." I say awkwardly, despising the bitter after-taste that the apology leaves on my tongue.

As he turns to me, he gives me an award-winning smile. One which is known to soak panties and make up the mind of 'questioning' males. This almost makes me despise him again. "It's nothing really, but for all the difference that it makes... you're forgiven."

I quietly sigh in relief, feeling as if a huge weight was just lifted off my chest. Somehow I find myself feeling too relieved, and this upsets me so in response I nod stiffly, wave goodbye to him, and enter my house.

I collapse on the nearest soft object I come across. Said soft object happening to be the beat up old couch in the living room. I enjoy the feeling of air rushing in through my nostrils, cooling everything it touches, and expanding my lungs and belly. My large hands find their way up to rub my face and dig into my eyes in an attempt to wipe away the drowsiness, sadness, and emotional exhaustion which accumulated during the day, then flopping my arms flat against the couch.

As I stare up at the white popcorn ceiling I reminisce about my encounter with Jacob. _'Why did I forgive him so easily? What's WRONG with me? I fucking hate him!'_ I groan and again reach up to my face, but this time to massage my temples as my thoughts invade my mind again, like an unwanted house guest. _'I am supposed to HATE the ground he walks on and the air he breathes... I even told HIM so! What was I thinking? He's a JOCK for christ sake! He's only going to stab me in the back and bring more drama into my life. That's all jocks ever do. That's all they want. They feed on the drama that tear other people apart on the insi-' _

**'Paul! What the fuck do you think you're doing?!'** It's the voice and it doesn't sound happy with me.

"What the fuck do you want, you god damned tumor?!" I yell aloud with frustration, sitting up.

**'Don't take that tone with me!'** It chastises sternly. **'Why do you do this to yourself? You need to stop stereotyping people so much... you're only making things harder on yourself.'** Its voice softens in concern while still maintaining a stern edge.

I huff out a rebellious breath at this. _'You're not my mother, and my thoughts are none of your fucking business.'_ I bite back when I stand up.

It sighs in impatience. **'Paul, I am TELLING you! Stop! What do you expect to accomplish from all of this? Because I can tell you right now that the road you're traveling is a short one which is littered with bigotry, intolerance and loneliness.'** It warns.

I become angry at this presence which occupies my mind. _'Why should I listen to you? You're a fucking VOICE inside my head! Even if you aren't a tumor, I haven't the slightest idea what or who you are! You haven't told me a damned thing about yourself or how you came to be in my mind and I have no way of verifying your information so why SHOULD I trust you?!'_

**'You want to know who I am, you little shit!? FINE! I'll tell you! My name is so old that only the wind and trees can pronounce it. My presence in your mind is consequence of other worldly creatures that occupy the same space in which you and all your family and friends live. I am your instincts, your TRUE- socially untainted thoughts, and your raw emotion. I am YOU, dipshit!'**

Throughout the entirety of the voice's explanation my anger builds, but it is at the words 'socially untainted' that I become livid. "Do you take me for an idiot?! Despite what you might think about me, I'm not some gullible child that you can sell your make-believe stories to! And now you're calling me 'socially tainted'?! If anything I am the person LEAST INFLUENCED by society in this entire STATE!" I yell as I begin to pace, unable to contain my anger.

**'Damn it, dumbass! You listen to me, and you listen WELL!' **It is furious with me, that much is evident. **'You are influenced by society more than you think. You are passionate, and a true fighter, Paul, but you are misguided, let me show you the wa-'**

I am shaking with the sheer intensity of anger that I feel now. "Shut UP!" I yell, nearly ripping my hair out as I continue to pace.

**'Let me fini-'**

I let out a long frustrated grunt as I grip my hair tightly in attempt to wring the voice from my head- all to avoid the alternative method of getting the voice out of my head- and take a deep breath to try and stop the shaking that's beginning to take over.

**'HEY! You're GOING to listen to me whether you LIKE IT or NOT!'**

And with that I am left with my last resort and I flee to my room to get the supplies needed to rid myself of the voice in my head and in turn stop the vibrations that are working their way through my body.

**'Paul, what are you doing?'** Its voice is nervous, and I can feel its existence in my mind becoming more pronounced- preparing to reach deep in my mind and grab control if it feels the need to.

Opening my dresser drawer I dig out the unlabeled medicine bottle with shaky hands. "Shutting you up." I mumble under my breath as I open my window.

**'No... don't. Stop.'** It's on edge and its duo tone voice cracks with nerves. It's digging in its fingers, reaffirming its grip.

"Shut up." I growl as I scour the ground for a lighter hurriedly.

**'I'm SERIOUS. Stop it!' **It yells, sounding frightened while slowly climbing up over mind, claiming every new section it touches as its own.

* * *

_**[A.N: YOU MIGHT WANT TO STOP READING NOW IF YOU'RE BOTHERED BY MARIJUANA USE]**_

* * *

"God damn it! Can you EVER SHUT UP!?" I scream, finding a lighter, then stumbling over a mess of clothes and miscellaneous objects to my mattress. Lifting the mattress I find the familiar shiny pink metal tube quickly. I plop down on my bed and open the medicine bottle. Greeted by the earthy, musty smell, I pull out one of the greenish buds and break a piece off. Not bothering to de-seed or de-stem I pack it tightly into the wider end of the metal tube, nearly dropping it multiple times in the process.

**'PLEASE! I PROMISE TO BE QUIET! STOP!'** It screams frantically. I can hear its sobbing and feel its pain as if it were my own as it claims a new piece of my mind.

The need to block its pain from seeping into my mind only serves to urge me onwards in my plans, as I slide the tapered end of the tube between my lips and snap my thumb down against the lighter, creating a small flame. Releasing a shaky breath from my nose, I hold the flame near the other end and suck as the voice scrambles to take over in time.

The terrible taste of the smoke glides quietly against my tongue and enters my lungs. This part has always been the part I hate most of the entire experience. I hold my breath even though my lungs are begging me to let it expel the invading substance, and hold it some more, until I'm beginning to feel light-headed then cough up the smoke. I repeat these actions of lighting, inhaling, holding, and exhaling until all that's left in the one-ie is a shriveled up black mass of ash.

I flop down on my back, not concerned about where my one-ie lands. As I feel the buzz begin to set in I can feel the voice slowly recede back to the outskirts of my mind for protection against the fog. I stare at the ceiling again. This used to only be an activity that I shared exclusively with Sam. He offered once, and I tried it. I never really got into it, I only used it as a way to bond with him. Then one day when my dad had either done or said something- I can't really remember which- that pissed me off more than usual, I saw that medicine bottle sitting on my nightstand and recognized it as an escape.

The buzz is getting stronger now as my body absorbs the chemical compound. Soon the familiar cloud is settling over my mind. The herbal fog grants me control over the voice's thoughts in my mind, but leaves me utterly helpless to any of my own repressed emotions and thoughts. Different from the dark cloud which resides in my stomach; this one brings me scrambled fragments of thoughts and emotions, my brain associating different fragmented patterns, images, motions, and events with the first, the latest assortment of activity, then triggers a third cluster, and so forth.

It reminds me of boating on calm water in thick fog. Feeling like I'm moving a hundred miles an hour one minute then feeling as if I'm going three the next. Not sure where I am or where I'm going. I can't look forwards and I can't look backwards, all I can do is focus on this moment... on this set of fragmented emotions, thoughts, patterns, images, motions, and events until the next set comes and I can't remember the previous.

It's a surreal feeling, nothing going on around me entirely 'clicks' in my mind, signifying that this is reality.

* * *

_**[A.N: ALRIGHT YOU'RE SAFE NOW]**_

* * *

And I absolutely, completely despise it. Because when I'm not riding the waves of associations my brain keeps coming up with, I am horribly paranoid.

_'What if my dad comes home right now?'_

_'Does it smell like weed in here?'_

_'What if he catches me?'_

_'Did I have a test tomorrow?'_

_'What was that noise?'_

_'What if it's one of those fuckin' wolves!?'_

_'Did I just piss on myself?'_

_'What if I have to get a catheter because I've lost control of my bladder?!'_

_'There's that noise again!'_

_'Was that a car door?'_

_'Is my dad home?!'_

_'Or was it just that bird that hangs out by the front door?'_

_'What if it ran into the side of the house?'_

_'Did I just hear a voice?'_

_'Are there people outside my house?'_

_'Are they coming in to get me?!'_

_'There's that FUCKING NOISE again!'_

And when I'm not paranoid I'm thinking things I just REALLY shouldn't think about someone who I'm supposed to hate.

_'Is he still obsessed with cars?'_

_'I wonder if he'd fix my car if I asked him..'_

_'Maybe I could hang out with him if he did.'_

_'I wonder if he really does accept my apology.'_

_'Who were those boys he was hanging out with on the cliffs?'_

_'Did he think I was acting like an asshole?'_

_'He sure has gotten a lot more buff since sophomore year...'_

_'I wonder what he'd do if I told him he looked good.'_

_'His arms especially...'_

_'I wonder how they'd feel...'_

_'I've never had big muscles... would they be hard?'_

_'Would his skin be soft or rough and dry?'_

_'I think it would be rough... at least on his hands.'_

_'Maybe it would be soft on his lips...'_

_'I wonder if he's bi...'_

_'Maybe just questioning?'_

_'I haven't ever seen him with a girl before... maybe he's gay.'_

_'Or could he be like me?'_

_'Could I ask him?'_

_'I think he's friends with Sam now... does that mean he doesn't care about preference?'_

_'How would he react if I asked him out?'_

_'He sure does have a cute smile.'_

_'Would he smile if I asked him?'_

_'Does he even like me?'_

_'He seems happy around me.'_

_'But he seems happy around everyone.'_

_'Am I the person he likes least?'_

The worst part is that these thoughts all flow so easily from my mind, none of them are forced, and there seems to be a never-ending supply of these thoughts.

* * *

**Summary: Paul tells the voice to shut up, and its response is to beg Paul to stop, but of course, Paul is a persistent mofo. Paul then begins to feel the voice's pain as his own and this only urges him forwards in his actions.**

**The following is a direct quote...**

**"This used to only be an activity that I shared exclusively with Sam. He offered once, and I tried it. I never really got into it, I only used it as a way to bond with him. Then one day when my dad had either done or said something- I can't really remember which- that pissed me off more than usual, I saw that medicine bottle sitting on my nightstand and recognized it as an escape."**

* * *

**I have to talk seriously about this for a minute, because I imagine that there are some of you who aren't so happy with me right now. I neither condone nor oppose the use of marijuana. I know there will be some of you who are supporters and some of you who are opposers. I have plenty of "Stoner" friends whom I love dearly- and plenty of non-user friends whom I love dearly as well- and while I stay neutral on the matter I can see both sides of the issue. As to the reason why I chose to make Paul smoke weed... well... just don't worry it'll all make sense later on in the story and I have a perfectly good reason.**

**So to sum all this up... if you're against marijuana use- cool, you keep doing what you're doing. If you're a supporter of marijuana use or use marijuana yourself- cool, you keep doing what you're doing. HOWEVER I'm going to continue to remain neutral on the matter.**

**By the way! To all of you who AREN'T offended by Paul's usage of said drug (Don't you get snippy with me if you disagree with my use of the word "drug" in describing weed) I had a friend describe the experience to me, so you're not getting any of the fake non-user descriptions. :D I hope this pleases you.**

**Remember to vote on my poll, and review! It'll mean a lot to me if you do. :3 Just ask any of my friends... I drive them crazy with my shouts of joy of "I GOT A NEW REVIEW!". :3 Not to mention they all give me a complete and much-needed ego boost! Especially if you give me some constructive criticism! :D**

**(Sorry Stargazer1364... I tried to limit the length but some things just needed to be said. Dx )**


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